Safe Haven
by catalysts
Summary: Haven, the famous Lone Wanderer and do-gooder of the Wastes, doesn't expect company on her quest for her father. Especially not in former Raider, Slayde, and contracted Ghoul, Charon. Adventure ensues.
1. Chapter 1: Single-Minded

**Safe Haven**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout, nor am I affiliated with Bethesda.**

Chapter 1: Single-Minded

Her feet were trudging.

She knew they were, she could feel the weary drag of her heavy leather boots and the swelling of painful blisters on her heels.

But she couldn't stop now, the vicious barks were still echoing through the dense air.

The adrenaline rush was to much – and the possibility of enemies on her tail kept her from turning to check, she learned the hard way that turning mid-run was _not_ a good idea.

She had only ever _heard _of the dangers of the Wastes, before her recent escape from the Vault. Her experiences in the Capital Wasteland had proved Vault 101's gang, The Tunnel Snakes, were nothing to the brutal and quick-tempered bands of Raiders that dotted the Wastes. Even the dreaded Radroach attacks on the Vault in the past now seemed minor compared to the many other dangerously irradiated creatures of the Wasteland.

Like those giant Fire Ants.

_Ugh. _

She shuddered at the memory of her peeling, blistered skin, and the scattered gooey carcasses of overly-mutated ants. But she knew every searing burn was worth it if only to assure little Bryan Wilks that nobody else would have to share the same fate as his father at the fault of a fire-spewing ant.

Haven was _not_ one for the usual killing and maiming that was imperative for survival in the Wasteland. Her method generally consisted of sneaking, running, lock-picking, hacking terminals...almost _always_ avoiding head-on confrontations, or close-kills.

She hated killing - and felt a little more human for it.

She slowed her pace to a slightly brisk walk as the red ticks littering her Pipboy's meter finally blurred and faded, she had finally outrun a pack of rabid dogs looking for their next meal.

With a shallow sigh of relief, she continued towards her newly acquired destination – The Museum of Technology, a mission requested by the notorious Three Dog himself. Of course, he agreed to share the information on her father, James, contingent on the retrieval and installation of a Communication Relay Dish, to restore his station's signal around the Wastes.

She had accepted it rather quickly – not necessarily on the terms of fighting the so-called "Good Fight" as Three Dog had titled it, but by admitting she would do _anything_ if it meant the return of her father.

And she had meant it.

She was frustrated and confused over his abrupt disappearance, but she had never felt so...alone. Haven would find his reasons, his goals, and would help him in any way she could - then, maybe one day they could live quietly as a family in her new home - in Megaton. Right now, he was the only thing she had – he was her father, and finding him was the only motivation that kept her fighting; that kept her _surviving._

She took a passing glance at her Pipboy. She was nowhere near the Museum, and her attempt of navigating around the Metro rather than entering it had failed horribly. She had to admit, her nonexistent skills at direction and maps hadn't helped the matter.

Haven mumbled a string of newly-learned curses – courtesy of Raiders, and maybe a little reminiscent of Butch in Vault 101 as well.

If there was anything she despised...feared, more than numerous rampant Fire Ants, it would be the eerie Metros.

They almost always promised Feral Ghouls, charging Molerats, and/or clusters of Raiders that nursed their safe houses in the dank underground; Not to mention their maze-like qualities, and horrible lighting. But, as always, she found she didn't have a choice – she would have to find the Metro and brave it's shadowy contents.

She turned her heel, placing a marker on Dupont Circle Station inside her Pipboy- which would hopefully lead her to Metro Central, and she headed in it's appointed direction.

She felt a warm bullet graze her neck, and she panicked. Glancing again at her Pipboy, she found that she had missed something vital.

On the edge of her sensor, a throng of red marks were beginning to scatter. In her frenzy she attempted to count the ticks on her meter, but her blood ran cold when the number was running upwards of five and six.

_Raiders._

She quietly murmered her father's quote, as she always did when she felt lost in fear and panic.

"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."

She chanted it shakily as she readied her weapon of choice, a worn combat shotgun that she had scavenged from a dead Super Mutant, and she aimed to their armor clad bodies with a calm that only memories of a life much safer could provide her.

"You're gonna die, Bitch!" A female Raider howled as she charged at close-range, readying what looked similar to a baseball bat.

Haven ducked, narrowly missing a strength-filled swing as she clumsily backed up, close-range with melee weapons was definitely not her forte.

Apparantly, the Raider had dropped her splitting baseball bat for a menacing sawed-off shotgun, as Haven felt it's cold barrel press tightly against her temples.

She closed her eyes, surrendering to the inevitable as Revelation 21:6 continued to echo in her mind – and she could only muse how she would now be reduced to just another hastily scratched tally mark at the grip of a Raider's gun.

* * *

_**BANG!**_

She heard it, the sound of the gunshot – but she never felt the jarring impact.

"You asshole, Slayde!" She heard the shotgun-bearing Raider shout distantly, as Haven palmed her head for any wounds.

She was surprised to find none – only a small bruise marred her hairline, where the shotgun had been pressed.

She looked up from her position on the ground, not quite remembering how or when she had lost her footing, and saw a man restraining the female Raider that had been about to shoot her – the woman's short-barreled shotgun was now clasped firmly in his hands, his fingers deftly tracing the trigger as he pushed the gun into the Raider's side.

_He was turning against his own?_

Haven tilted her head, confused. He seemed to be a Raider - yet not.

She had likened most Raiders to Feral Ghouls, in a sense. Although, unlike Feral Ghouls, Raiders had their right mind – they just chose not to use it. Most Raiders had clouded their good judgement with their Chem of choice or an alcohol fix, selfishly hoarding goods and attacking on sight.

But this particular Raider seemed somewhat different. His grey eyes held a humanity that she had never before seen in any Raider, somehow, he didn't seem as..._merciless_ as the others that surrounded him, lusting for blood, and itching for a battle to the death. Even his clothing was different from the others. Rather than the jutting spikes and heavy armor that many Raiders sported he wore a plainclothes outfit with a simple brown leather jacket curtaining off of his shoulders, pre-war jeans that tore at the knees, and leather boots that appeared very similar to her own.

And then she realized. She was _surrounded_ by Raiders_._

Her hand searched for her combat shotgun that had tumbled out of her hands as she had ducked earlier, only to spot it already in the hands of yet another Raider - Her engraved "21:6" catching the dim glower of sunset as the Raider tested it's weight in his hands. But when she peeked at a few others she noticed the sea of Raiders no longer seemed singularly focused on her, their yellowed eyes now fell angrily on the grey-eyed man. Although she was slightly puzzled at the turn of events, she knew one thing for sure.

This was her chance.

She gathered herself and lifted off the sandy dirt, preparing for a stealthy sprint to relative safety - but felt a rough hand snag her wrist painfully in it's wrenching grip.

"Not so fast, Little Miss 101." The man smirked and she felt a sharp pain in her thigh.

_Med-X._

Her hazel eyes fluttered closed in a sudden wave of sleepiness – and she could only make out a flash of grey eyes and stringy strands of wavy dirty blonde hair before she crumpled again to the barren ground.

* * *

Author's Note - Not quite sure where it's going, or whether I like it. I'm playing with the order of Quests and timeline, as well as the map - they may not be completely accurate.


	2. Chapter 2: Robin Hood

**Safe Haven**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout, nor am I affiliated with Bethesda.**

Chapter 2: Robin Hood

* * *

Haven's eyes felt like lead as they opened, they weighed down thickly with drowsiness – and the rest of her body didn't feel much different as she struggled to get up.

"Wakin' up, Sweetheart?" A mocking male voice boomed through her ears, and she immediately coiled backwards.

"Who are you?" She demanded tightly, surprised that her efforts to sound unruffled had been a success, despite her weak countenance. She squinted her eyes to make out the stranger's form, and to block the blinding sunrise that was emerging behind him in a glittering array of oranges and reds.

Just as she began to gain clarity in her sight she heard a low chuckle reverbrate through her ears and could now make out the wide smirk on his face as his grey eyes shimmered with confidence.

She gasped. _Grey eyes..._

_That Raider from before!_

She was just bracing herself to rise as his chapped lips parted to respond.

"Slayde's the name. Classy, right?"

She snorted in reply. Sarcasm, from a Raider? That's new.

She searched the surroundings swiftly, her eyes darting from side to side, and found that the rest of the group of Raiders had dissapeared, and she was now resting in their open base. Metal cans lined the outside of the base, the flames swaying with the whistling wind, and cloth bags of dirt and scavenged rocks formed a wall from the surrounding area. A tell-tale sign of a Raider encampment.

She could feel compressed and aged foam underneath her body, and the broken springs of an old mattress coiled under her back, and she could only wonder – How long had she been unconscious?

"You've been out for a few hours." He replied roughly, seeming to have read her thoughts and eyed her limp form somewhat apologetically.

He pointed to the spot on her thigh where he administered the Med-X and added,

"I had to, you weren't part of the plan." He said and looked away as he used a dingy cloth to clean what appeared to be sprays of blood off of his frayed boot.

She guessed that translated to an apology in some convoluted way.

Haven swung her legs over the side of the rusted metal bed frame and pushed herself up with her hands, steadying on the balls of her feet. Now finding her footing, she pumped her legs – succesfully starting a mild run in the general direction of the Museum...and maybe to an area she could rummage for some food as well. She was famished.

Her breath caught as she felt his hand once again encase her wrist, and pull it backwards. effectively halting her jog as he leaned to whisper into the shell of her ear.

"Your name, Vaultie?"

Haven instantly decided she despised the arrogant lilt to his voice, especially as she could feel his lips tilting into another smirk against her ear.

She ripped her hand from his grasp, twisting to face him and pushed every bit of fire she had into her narrow-eyed glower.

"You don't need to know." she seethed, and hoped he had understood her hostility.

He threw his long arms up in mock surrender, his palms facing up and his elbows bent,

"Feisty, Huh?" he spoke through a smile – A true toothy smile – as if he was pleased with her in some odd way, and his gaze slowly lifted then lowered; raking up and down on her figure.

_Oh._

Haven knew how most women were treated in the Capital Wasteland – as means for men's entertainment. Many of them sold themselves willingly; usually for an addiction fix or a few spare caps.

She sneered at that.

"In your dreams, Pal." She responded lowly, swiveling again to leave.

She half-expected him to catch her wrist in his hold once again, but was startled to see him trailing after her instead. When he caught her questioning stare he shrugged his shoulders and with a soft sigh he replied,

"You seem like good company."

* * *

_Crunch_

_Crunch_

_CRUNCH_

Closing her eyes, Haven sighed heavily. Even the way he walked seemed to be _designed_ to grate on her nerves.

"Shouldn't you be with your other Raider friends?" She snapped at him, keeping her steady pace and focusing on placing one foot in front of the other.

"Friends?" He chuckled, it sounded like it was meant to be light and airy – But to Haven, it sounded rather dark.

"No. It's called _infiltration_." At that, she peered over her shoulder at him – Noticing he was now carrying a heavy pack over his back and gripping her combat shotgun that had earlier fell into the hands of one of the others after her tussle with the female Raider. After a moment, she pieced it together.

He was raiding the _Raiders._

He wore a leering smile, and she could tell there was more he was hiding of his story, but hell if she wanted to know it.

_It's not her business. _

She only had one goal; Finding her father, James. But she had to admit; right now she felt like she was grasping at straws, he was so out of reach – and every clue she obtained only lead to yet another question.

This was no time for a questionable companion, she had to stick close on the trail to her father. Haven hoped this Raider...Slayde, was not planning to follow her long-term.

She broke from her reverie when she felt her stomack lurch – remembering her previously ignored hunger. She slipped her hand into her makeshift bag, feeling for anything edible – but she could only find ammo, two Stimpacks, four bottles of purified drinking water, and one small bag of Rad-Away.

Haven kept walking. She'd gone through worse than just three or four days without food, and was thankful for her small stock of water. She would just have to wait for a local trader or abandoned building to scour for supplies.

She sipped from her water, hoping to satisfy the growing emptiness in her stomach, and she winced when she saw something fly across her line of vision.

"Your welcome." Slayde said with a quick wink. He had thrown a package of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes at her feet.

As if she were some stray.

It was so tempting, and walking past it took everything she had – but she did. Haven decided she would rather die of hunger than lose her dignity.

She kept her gait even as she heard him stop to gather the offering she had neglected, and when the package crinkled as it was opened; Haven couldn't help but to listen attentively as she bit her lip in hunger.

She turned to look once again, but as she revolved to face him she was greeted with the press of a cake against her open mouth – and that, she just could _not_ possibly resist.

She grabbed the small cake like a lifeline and bit into it savagely, Haven swore she heard a hearty chuckle – and she could just barely make out that _damn infuriating_ smirk, but she couldn't find it in her to care.

As he wiped stray bits of the snack off of her face playfully, and offered her another – she knew she was becoming partial.

_Maybe he's not so bad._

* * *

He ended up following her.

Slayde didn't know how, or _why_ - But he could feel it, that she was someone who could bring something new to this damned Wasteland - that she had a purpose bigger than only furthering her own ends like every other breathing creature in the Wastes.

He didn't even know her_ name. _But then again, it didn't really matter.

Almost everybody in the Capital Wasteland knew about her, Three Dog always made a note of her in his broadcast over Galaxy News Radio. She was the heroic "Lone Wanderer" searching for her father, and helping everyone she could along the way.

He would never have guessed that strong title belonged to such a wisp of a girl - she looked younger than him by a few years, and he guessed she was about seventeen. His only clue to her "Lone Wanderer" identity was the large '101' emblem on the back of her jumpsuit.

As he parted from his thoughts to glance at her, he saw her footsteps becoming slower - and her hand clutching her stomach as her features contorted in pain.

He knew that look. He had lived the first half of his life with that look plastered on his own face.

Little Miss 101 was hungry.

He shuffled in his pack of scavenged goods, courtesy of the Raiders, and when his calloused hands felt the rectangle shape of a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, he tossed them her way.

"You're welcome." He said with a slight upturn of his lips, and then flashed a wink.

He expected her to pick them up in haste; she couldn't have eaten for at least three days, but instead she completely ignored the box - which laid forgotten in the dust as she walked past it as if she hadn't noticed.

He stood there - in awe, and in slight puzzlement before retrieving the box from the ground and tearing open the plastic it was wrapped in.

Slayde saw her still in her place, her head tilting to the side in attention; and he couldn't help the smile from spreading on his face.

He extracted the cakes from their wrap, and just as her head twisted to glance in his direction he placed it in her mouth. A smirk lifted the side of his mouth as he watched her expression transition from hesitance to acceptance in the following bite.

She grabbed the other end of it, and he chuckled as she finished it off with another hungry bite. When he looked to her face and saw the mess of crumbs surrounding her mouth as she licked her lips, his fingers were moving to clean it before his own notice - and at her blank stare, he moved to offer her another from the box. Her hazel-green eyes softened at the gesture, and somehow he knew he was going to enjoy this adventure.

_She's not so bad._

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Most_ of the time I will not closely follow dialogue, timelines, or quests. I may borrow some though, when there are interactions with real game characters. But I am basically using the world of Fallout 3 and only the general plot.

Also, this chapter seems a little filler-ish since it's not yet being guided into the main quest, but it will get there soon! (Charon will be introduced then as well.)

-catalysts


	3. Chapter 3: Down The Rabbit Hole

**Safe Haven**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout, nor am I affiliated with Bethesda.**

Chapter 3: Down The Rabbit Hole

* * *

"You okay over there, 101?" Slayde's voice echoed through the Metro as his footsteps became audibly nearer to her.

"Fine!" Haven huffed heavily as she pressed her back against the cool cement of the walls, avoiding a stumbling group of Feral Ghouls.

She couldn't stand this damn Metro - or any Metro for that matter. They were absolutely foul.

Her feet swivelled at the threatening hiss and screeching of another Feral Ghoul, it's clawed hands reached out for her in a menacing gesture as it sped towards her in a bizarre, lop-sided run.

Haven froze.

She knew they were different. Feral Ghouls are _feral_ – no longer self-aware and undeniably lost to the engulfing radiation, but they were human once_. _They had a family, a home, a _life_.

She gasped when she processed the sickening squelch of tearing flesh, and the subsequent howl of pain tore her from her thoughts.

Slayde had killed it, his knife still hung stiffly embedded in the Ghouls torso before he pulled it back out – viscous blood dripping thickly onto the tunnel floor as he did so.

"What the hell were you doing?!" His eyebrows drew together sternly as he scolded her.

She inhaled angrily and she started to snap back a scathing reply, but she knew it would be futile.

He was in the right – she reminded herself of that, he saved her. But at the same time, she felt slightly upset over how fluid and seemingly easy the kill was for him; how every one of his muscles seemed coiled and ready to spring on prey in any moment, and how a dangerous glint in his eyes shone at it's defeat.

She had almost forgotten that he was a Raider, until that moment.

She realized his only difference was that he didn't travel with a pack of them, like most other Raiders. But she wasn't sure if that made him more harmless or more formidable; Haven wasn't even clear on his reasons for following her.

The doubt was pouring in, along with tinges of suspicion; and Haven wasn't completely sure that they were misplaced.

She noticed he was still waiting for her reply, his expression taut and his jaw flexed.

What could she say; that she took pity on it? Well, she _did._

"It...it – _He,_" She sputtered out her words clumsily, and she hated how weak she sounded – even to her own ears.

"_He_ was innocent...I-I could have _avoided_ him." Haven knew she sounded ridiculous and impractical, so she snapped her mouth shut before any more words could tumble out.

Slayde's eyes were disbelieving and he seemed to have become even angrier.

"Innocent?" He questioned incredulously.

He studied her, as if he were judging her sanity, and his eyes narrowed again.

"Before or after _it _clawed you to death?" He said in a derisive tone.

Haven just stared in return. She had nothing to say to that, he was right.

After holding his gaze she turned away, searching for an exit to both the dank Metro and the failing conversation.

* * *

He didn't speak to her for the rest of the journey through the dim Metro Central, and Haven was thankful for that; she didn't know how she would respond.

When they reached the stairs that led to the iron gated exit, her relief was drowned by a weighty disappointment when she found they would need to travel yet another Metro; the Museum Station.

Their entrance to Museum Station proved that this Metro would, no doubt, be more difficult to travel through than the last – as teams of Raiders stood, guarding their territory from any lurking threats.

Haven crept past them with as much stealth as she could manage, hoping Slayde would follow suit as she slipped through their small encampment. She slowed her breathing and lightened her footsteps as she neared the end, and she wondered how Slayde was managing to keep so silent - she didn't even hear a light tapping of steps or inhale and exhale of breathing.

She glanced behind her slowly, finding that Slayde was now out of sight and no longer behind her.

Had he stopped following her? She shook her head, brushing the thought away.

If he had decided to leave, then that was for the better...

_Right?_

Haven paused when she heard a throaty cackle and a heavy grunt. It sounded inhuman to her ears, and she swore she saw a flash of dull green skin.

Her nerves tensed when she realized the source.

A Super-Mutant.

It's large form closed in on her, stomping it's feet and gripping a hefty weapon - she could only hear her own strangled cry as the Mutant hammered the head of a Super-Sledge across her waist.

Her eyes clouded and her mouth bubbled blood as she struggled to keep on her feet, she gripped a small pistol that she had pocketed earlier on, in the Metro, but she doubted the effectiveness that it would serve right now; and as her consciousness faded she couldn't seem to find the stability to shoot.

The Mutant was relentless in his attack, and he seemed to be determined to bludgeon her to death slowly - she could feel every slow-building blow hit her side repeatedly, but around the fifth time the Sledge fell on her she discovered a blissful numbness was blossoming through her body.

Her eyes were growing tired; Haven wanted to just close her eyes - _just sleep, _and the concept of her own death was beginning to not bother her much anymore if it meant a release from the aching tiredness.

She tried to recite her father's quote but even that couldn't save her now.

Haven almost fainted purely from relief when she saw a familiar blur of sandy blonde hair and grey eyes.

Slayde.

_He's back?_

He rushed over to her, and she imagined that she must have looked pretty well done-for, because she could see an anxious expression contorting his strong features.

"I'm sor-" She began, but could feel the metallic tang of blood rising to her throat when she spoke - she swallowed heavily.

"Damn." She heard him exhale tensely, and suddenly he was nowhere to be seen.

She knew she should be reaching for a Stimpack, and her fingers twitched to do so - but she couldn't find the strength or the will to search her pack for one.

Haven could her the distant clang of weapons, and then the sound of a shot being fired reverberated loudly throughout the Metro.

"Th-This can't be..." The voice was low and gurgling, becoming gradually more faint with each spoken word.

Haven could only guess those were the last words of the Sledge-wielding Super-Mutant, as she heard an audible thump and felt a slight tremor over the tunnel's damp ground as it fell – dead weight.

She pushed her hand into her side, feeling the gnarled flesh and blood that seeped onto her fingers. Her head was spinning, and the small bit of strength she had used to keep her feet firmly planted was finally exhausted, as her consciousness dwindled and her knees let out from under her.

* * *

**Author's Note** – A bit of a shorter chapter, but also an important one. I wanted to work on the actual movement of the story line, and hopefully some of my future chapters will thoroughly explain some of Slayde's background as well.

I want to explain that Haven is a character that is growing. Being freshly out of the Vault, I don't think she should suddenly become bad-ass and great at combat - She's naive and a little weak; but she'll grow over the course of the story.

Again, I will say to _not _reference me on the quests or maps - I am probably twisting them horribly.

Also, I want to dedicate a _monstrous_ thank you to those who reviewed - I really appreciate it, they are a great motivation.

- catalysts


End file.
